


Everybody Wants For Something

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Friends With Benefits, M/M, Misunderstandings, unhappy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 15:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In and out, Cas said.Which makes Dean wonder why he’s sitting in his car, waiting on the angel returning with Famine’s ring.Something must be wrong, which leads to Dean sneaking into the restaurant to find Famine’s sneaked past Cas’s angelic defences and got the better of him too.But, hey; everybody has needs, right?





	Everybody Wants For Something

**Author's Note:**

> These boys, honestly. 
> 
> Dear ones, there is not a happy ending here just so you know before you read further.
> 
> Dean doesn’t get it (by intent or not), and Cas doesn’t think he ever will so they are both just stuck where they are which is a sad, dark little place.
> 
> I used the rape/non-con tag as Cas and the man in the restaurant would probably never have chosen to be intimate on the floor without the influence of famine.

Cas comes quietly, body tensing for that one moment where it all comes together, and then going still as Dean slips out and rolls over.

He can’t help but feel something’s different, tonight. Cas is always wound tight, and Dean gets it, he does; that’s one of the reasons he suggested they start this.

A little comfort sex, friends with benefits, taking the edge off. It works for him, always has, and he thought it was working for Cas, too, but right now he can feel the angel’s not exactly blissed out.

He sits up, and rests his forearms on his knees, but doesn’t look down. “You okay?”

Cas lies there, and Dean gets the notion that he’s waiting on...something.

But then the angel just rolls out of the bed and onto his feet. There’s that feeling like a storm rolling through, and then he’s clean and dressed, and looking like he’s about to stride into battle.

Dean huffs at him. “Hey. You wanna take care of me?”

Okay, poor choice of words, he guesses, from the stony expression he gets in return, and then Cas is gone a moment later, wingbeats fading into nothing.

“Fine,” Dean mutters, and hits the shower.

++

Fuck this town, and fuck the horsemen and fuck Lucifer and fuck the apocalypse, and fuck every single fucking thing ever.

Dean draws his gun and jogs across the street, keeping low as he nears the restaurant and staying out of line of sight of the windows.

It doesn’t even look like anyone’s in there; the place is dark, there’s no visible movement, but Dean knows better.

His angel’s in there, and so much for in, grab the ring, and get out.

There’s a back door, and Dean’s too grateful to find it unlocked to worry about traps or ambushes, not when Sam’s cuffed to a damn sink, and Cas is…

Dean finds out what Cas is when he hears a moan and he knows that voice and it spurs him on, fast, stupid, and he gets a glimpse of Cas on the floor, somebody on top of him, hands fucking everywhere.

He has a hand in the guy’s collar, yanking him back, ready to kill him if he’s left even a bruise, drawn a single drop of blood.

Before he can do anything though, something hits him hard in the middle of the back, and it puts him on his knees. 

The guy pulls free of him, and gets to his feet, suddenly awkward, looking around him like he doesn’t know how the hell he got there.

Strong hands grab Dean’s arms and pull him onto his feet, hold him there.

Famine, that decrepit bastard, just rolls right to him, flanked by demons.

“Dean Winchester,” he croaks. “And the infamous Castiel. And….”. He looks expectantly at the other guy, and Dean does too, wondering who he is and what the hell he was doing to…

Cas is pushing himself up onto his elbows, looking dazed, tie askew, shirt popped open to the fourth button and Dean suddenly knows what the hell he was doing.

He glares at Cas’s would be _rapist_, and then Famine grins and chuckles, which sends him into a fit of coughing.

When it’s done, he waves his hand at the stranger, and Cas. “I see angels aren’t immune to want. To _hunger_. Go on then, young man. See to that angel’s needs.”

“You fucking _touch_ him,” Dean says, and lurches forward, but the demons hold him back and he can only watch as the guy goes back over to Cas.

He can only watch all of it.

As the guy slowly strips Cas, kissing him, petting, as he undoes the shirt, pushes it and the coat down his shoulders, takes off his tie and drops it to the ground.

Cas seems immediately lost in him, eyes shut, body responding like it was starved as the guy works him over.

But he’s never rough. He’s not fucking Cas. He’s _cherishing_ him, worshipping every inch of flesh he exposes, and returning to Cas’s mouth to kiss him as if desperate to comfort and reassure.

Cas looks wrecked by it all, gives himself over to this stranger, and Dean wants to rip Famine’s head off.

Right now he can’t do anything except look and listen as this guy makes love to his angel on the floor of some restaurant and makes Cas come, and then holds and kisses him after.

So that should be it. If Cas was hankering for a good fucking, okay, weird, given he knows he can come to Dean when he has the urge, that’s how this works between them. Now it’s out of his system, and he can get his ass off the floor and help him out with the demons.

But Cas doesn’t. He’s like a boneless heap in the guy’s arms, and neither of them seem to know there’s anybody else there, just watching them.

“Cas,” Dean says, and he doesn’t know if he sounds angry or hurt or desperate. 

He doesn’t know which of them he _feels_ either, and he doesn’t know why.

Famine’s eyeing him, curious. “Mmmm. Not so empty after all.”

And then the main door opens, and Dean’s eyes are dragged to it, and Sam’s standing there.

His mouth is smeared with blood, and Dean’s stomach lurches. They’re not….

He can’t handle this again.

But he does, because he has to.

Locking Sam up. Ignoring his reasoning, his desperate logic, and then his broken pleas.

Standing outside that room, after, until he can’t stand there anymore, doesn’t seem like the right time to speak to Cas.

And he isn’t sure why he wants to. Famine got a hold of them, got in their heads, and that was that.

Maybe it shone a light in some dark corners they’d all rather stayed that way, but hell. He’s been drugged, cursed, whammied, more times than he can count and then there’s the time he got so deadass drunk he thought he was on the Jerry Springer show and he’s just grateful Sam and Bobby are still pretending that never happened.

Best way to deal is like they always do. Keep looking forward, because that’s where they’re going.

The only time you look back is to make sure nothing’s sneaking up on you.

As Dean climbs the stairs, he knows he doesn’t have to, because Cas is down there, Cas has his back, and he’ll stay with Sam until the worst is over and then maybe later he’ll come find Dean and they can distract each other.

Maybe it’s not the perfect solution to their problems, but it works and he’s just glad Cas feels the same.


End file.
